


Of Mothers and Daughters

by Gracesgirl



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 10:37:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14330655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gracesgirl/pseuds/Gracesgirl
Summary: Therese and her struggles with her mother...and Carol, with her healing love.





	Of Mothers and Daughters

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting of a story from a year ago. I took it down because of some personal struggles...and am putting it up again to overcome...to heal...
> 
> I hope, in the process, to bring you some enjoyment and freedom on some level.

     Therese opened her eyes to see the late April sunshine dappling through the bedroom windows, splaying the bedroom carpet in honeycombed gold. With the windows slightly cracked she could hear the muted sounds of traffic far below, a gentle sound on this Sunday morning. Somewhere, too, she could hear birdsong and the breeze carried an earthy, loamy richness that was a sure signal of spring’s arrival in New York City.   

 

     Sighing, Therese turned over in bed and stared at the scalloped patterns in the bedroom ceiling.  She could feel the edges of a spreading sadness creeping toward her, and like lava moving down a volcano’s flanks she felt helpless to stop its inexorable march.  She was aware of feeling frustrated. It was always this way.  Spring came in all its joyous, riotous glory and instead of feeling a spring in her step this same cumbersome heaviness descended to spoil the season each and every year.

 

     Therese certainly didn’t need a swami to tell her it was all because of the approaching Mother’s Day.  God, a part of her absolutely _hated_ that day.  Everywhere she turned there would be mothers in their finest dresses with corsages pinned to their chests. Little girls would wear bonnets and little boys would be turned out in those adorable miniature suits.  Carriages would pull happy families through Central Park, and husbands would proudly thrust colorful bouquets at their wives. And Therese would do—what?  What does one do on Mother’s Day when you don’t have a mother?  Or at least a mother to speak of.  Or when your mother dropped you off at an orphanage when you were a toddler because she simply didn’t want you anymore? And never came back again?

 

     Sorrow washed over her and Therese fought valiantly to arrest its path but this time it was overpowering.  A sob rose in a crushing wave from her chest, a moan escaped her lips, and tears broke freely forth.  She sat up quickly and swung her legs over the side of the bed, intent on leaving the room before the peacefully sleeping Carol was awoken. But just as she made to stand a hand closed around her wrist, its grip firm and purposeful.

 

     “Therese?  Therese, what’s the matter, love?”  Carol’s voice sounded surprisingly alert for one called from the deep halls of early morning slumber.  “Therese?  Talk to me,” now sharper, brighter, concerned. Carol slid to the edge of the bed and put a gentle hand on Therese’s shoulder.  Another came to her chin and attempted to persuade Therese to look at her.

 

     But Therese shook her head back and forth, unable to speak.  Her chest heaved and a sob escaped her.  Then another.  Alarmed, Carol scooted closer and drew Therese into her sleep-warmed embrace.  She had no idea what was wrong or what to say but was relieved to feel arms come around her waist as Therese let go with a torrent of tears.  “Shh, shh, there now.  Shh, shh, I’m here, love.”  Carol held Therese tighter, unconsciously rocking back and forth while brushing the hair off her forehead, her lips leaving a trail of gentle kisses along her hairline and temple and then back again, and back again.

 

     She could feel the weight of Therese’s tears soaking through her nightgown.  Her brow furrowed as she kept rocking and kissing in an unconscious lullaby of love and comfort.  What could be so wrong?  Therese had been fine last evening.  They had dined with Abby and her redhead and had a lovely time.  Therese had been in good spirits, immersed in conversation, laughing often, her dimples on display and  green eyes shining.  Their loving had been sweet and soulful last night and Carol thought they had both drifted off to sleep expecting only the best from their Sunday morning.

 

     She waited, patiently attentive until the storm of tears subsided.  Therese had her cheek pressed in the crook of Carol’s shoulder, and she could hear the soft, stuttering hiccups that often follow a heavy cry.  “Would you like to talk, darling? What do you need?” Carol asked, still uncertain. Therese pulled herself upright and Carol’s heart clenched at the picture she made—eyes red and puffy, skin blotchy, brown hair standing on end and nose running.

 

     “I look frightful, don’t I?” Therese questioned.

 

     “That’s the last thing you should be concerned about!  It’s just me. Here though, give me your nose.”  Carol pulled her hand inside a sleeve and wiped away the sinus drainage with it.  She smoothed Therese’s brown locks and kissed her cheek with a gentle smile.  “There you go, right as rain.”

 

     Therese’s face crumpled slightly and her eyes teared up again.  “Carol, you are so kind to me.  I’m so glad you’re here right now.  I’m so glad I’m not alone anymore…these thoughts, these memories…it’s just so hard to handle them alone.”  Reaching out with both hands, she clasped one of Carol’s and brought it up to her heart as if in hopes her touch would assuage the pain.  “I’m so sorry I woke you though…I didn’t mean to…I didn’t want to—“

 

     “Nonsense!” Carol interrupted forcefully. “I’m glad I heard you! Do you honestly think I would have you out in the living room crying alone while I’m a few feet away sleeping through it? But can you tell me what memories and thoughts you’re talking about?  I’m lost, darling, and I’d like to understand.”  Carol’s look was patient, gently curious, expectant.

     Still clenching the hand at her heart, Therese ventured an explanation.  “I--it’s…it’s spring now.  Spring has always been so hard for me.”  She sighed heavily.  “It doesn’t make much sense because it’s always so beautiful and it smells so good and it’s warmer and sunnier. But spring means April, and then May, and well…it’s, well…” She faltered, shrugging her thin shoulders, unable to keep eye contact and fixing her gaze on the sun’s early morning carpet dance.

 

     “Yes, then it’s May….and then it’s?” Carol gently offered.

 

     “And then it’s May, and then it’s Mother’s Day, Carol.  And then it always hurts _so much._ I can’t stand how much it hurts!” Therese looked at her and the pain in her eyes was wretched.  “And this year Rindy will be here.  Such a special day for you.” She abruptly stood and began to pace restlessly.  “Carol, I think I should just take a trip that weekend. I have no idea where but I think it would be better for you and Rindy. I think—“

 

     Carol had heard enough.  She stood up and walked over to Therese, taking her hands in her own. “I’m so sorry.  So, so sorry, love.  I don’t have the words…I don’t know how a mother can abandon her child forever…how deeply that must hurt.  I can’t imagine how much or what Mother’s Day has been like for you for all these years.  But Therese,” Carol stated as she placed a hand beneath her chin and lifted her face enough that she could look her in the eyes, “I do know that I’ll throw myself on the floor in front of the door before I let you pack up and leave that weekend, especially if you think it’s to spare Rindy and I from your sadness!”

 

     Carol cracked a small smile and was relieved to see the faintest echo ghost its way across Therese’s lovely features.  “You don’t want to see me flat out on the floor now, do you?”  When she received no reply Carol said, “Look, how about if we make a pot of coffee?  Or tea?  Which sounds better?  Let’s have something warm to drink and we’ll sit and talk this all through so I can understand every little thing running through your head.  Okay?”

 

     Therese realized a cup of tea sounded wonderful. She was cold standing there in her just her pajamas and her head felt achey and stuffed.  She nodded, and Carol immediately went to the closet to gather both their robes.  Shrugging into her own red tartan plaid, Carol brought Therese’s blue velour one over and helped her into it, tying it snuggly.  Seeing the frightened look on her face Carol placed her hands on Therese’s cheeks and brought their foreheads together.  They stood in silence for a few moments, listening to the distant hum of traffic and the chorus of the birds on the windowsill, like mismatched bookends holding the weight of their hearts between them.

 

     Then Carol took Therese by the hand and led her to the couch.

 

 

 

 

    

 

Chapter 2

 

 

     In the kitchen, Carol smoked the last of her cigarette as she waited for the bread to finish toasting.  There were pots of coffee and tea on a tray along with a small bowl of fresh strawberries and a tub of butter.  She gazed at the warm yellow kitchen walls and sighed ponderously.  Sunday morning was beginning in a most unexpected fashion; in all honestly she was afraid.  Therese was clearly so vulnerable this morning.   _What if I say the wrong thing?_ she thought.  _What if I make this worse?_   So far she had been reacting almost by instinct.  Therese reminded her of a baby bird, somehow frail, fragile, and desperately needy and it was all Carol could do to not grab hold of her and squeeze her. Stubbing out her cigarette, Carol shook her head.  God knows she had already deepened Therese’s wounds by abandoning her in Waterloo!  And though they had both worked tirelessly to repair the damage and come so very far, she still quivered as she thought of Therese’s vulnerability now.  _What if I hurt her_ _again?_

 

     Carol expelled a deep breath and picked up the breakfast tray with resolve.  She had no idea where this conversation would lead but she did know Therese would only be alone on Mother’s Day if Carol somehow keeled over and died!  And even then she was sure Abby would scoop her up and see her through….

 

     As she entered the living room she saw Therese curled in a corner of the couch, bare feet tucked inside her robe, head propped against a corner, quietly gazing out the large living room window.  Her face looked pale and drawn and her eyes were still red-rimmed as she turned toward Carol and watched her place the tray on the beautiful mahogany coffee table.

 

     Therese offered a diffident smile.  “Thank you.  That looks wonderful.”  Carol poured her a cup of tea and handed it to Therese who wrapped her fingers around it, bringing it to her face and inhaling the pungent aroma.  “Hmm…this helps, Carol.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I feel like you’re mothering me.” 

 

     Slightly taken aback, Carol looked her directly in the eye. “Really?  Well, maybe…” She took her own tremulous breath. “But I’m also just loving you, being kind to the woman I love when she’s hurting.  Is this okay with you?”

 

     “Yes.  Yes, it is.  I…I like it, Carol.  I like the mothering care. Is that okay?”  Her voice was filled with uncertainty and raw, breathtaking vulnerability.

 

     “Oh Therese, sweetheart, of course it’s okay! I’m just so glad you can let me be here,” she stated with relief in her voice, her hands motioning purposefully as if trying to paint a picture of the part of their hearts where they both knew the bandaged wounds lay still too fresh. Carol picked up her mug of coffee and moved closer to her.  “I want to give you whatever you need right now.  Maybe this is part of what we’ll offer each other, maybe we all need a little mothering sometimes.”

 

     “Well, it doesn’t take a swami in my case to figure that out!” Therese said with a wry, self-deprecating chuckle.

 

     Carol’s face broke into a wide, spontaneous grin.  “ ‘It doesn’t take a swami!’  Do you know you say that a lot?  You should be too young to even know what it means.  Where in the world did you pick that up?”

 

     Therese returned her smile and for the first time all morning Carol could see a momentary joy dance in her emerald eyes.  “That was one of Sr. Alicia’s favorite quotes. I have no idea why a Catholic nun would be referring to swamis, though, and when I was really young it didn’t mean anything.  But by the time I was about 10 I was curious and so I looked it up in a dictionary.”  She shifted a little on the couch, settling into the cushion as she settled deeper into memory.  “I caught on quickly!  Sr. Alicia would invoke the swami as needed and I learned to think for myself.  But…she was my swami.”  Therese caught Carol’s eyes meaningfully, and there was a noticeable change in the tenor of her voice.

 

     “Tell me how,” Carol encouraged softly.

 

     “When you’re very little and you live in an orphanage Mother’s Day doesn’t matter much.  For one thing I had no concept of the holiday.  But even if I did, none of us had mothers anyhow so it was kind of irrelevant.  But as I got older…”  Her voice trailed off and her gaze lost its focus.  She took a labored breath and released it heavily, and Carol watched Therese put her cup down and clench her fists while beginning to slide them in measured fashion from thigh to knee and back again.  “I was a pretty smart kid.  Once I figured out how a calendar worked I’d map out my school year and keep track of the days until vacation.  And one year, I don’t know, I was probably about 8 or so, I noticed it said, ‘Mother’s Day’ on one of the squares in May.  I asked Sr. Alicia about it and she was pretty honest.  I suppose nuns really shouldn’t lie….”

 

     Thigh to knee, knee to thigh, thigh to knee, Carol watched Therese rocking back and forth as she continued to slide her fists along her legs.  Clearly her mind had gone elsewhere, her eyes taking on a vague and haunted look.

 

     “Therese?” Carol prompted, worried and not exactly sure what the younger woman needed from her.  When she didn’t answer Carol moved the rest of the distance to her side and very gently lay her hand on top of one of Therese’s, stilling the compulsive motion.  This had its desired effect as it brought Therese out of her reverie, those green eyes turning toward her girlfriend and holding the contact.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.  “I guess I got lost in memories.  I…I would look out the front window, sometimes all day long. I had these elaborate fantasies about how my mother was going to come get me, especially on Mother’s Day because she would have realized how much she missed her daughter.  I don’t know when the fantasies died but at least I stopped looking out the window at some point.”  Her eyes were filled now with an almost unspeakable sorrow as she continued faintly, “I don’t know, Carol, maybe I still have that hope somewhere inside.”

 

     “Maybe, sweetheart,” Carol offered while stroking the top of Therese’s hand with light fingertips.  The older woman took a breath, uncertain, and debated what to say next.  Then she ventured on. “Therese, what got you through all those years?  Do you know, darling?”

 

     Without a moment’s hesitation she replied, “Sr. Alicia! Oh gosh, without a doubt,” and Carol could hear a subtle change in the timber of the younger woman’s voice, a quiet strength as opposed to forlorn emptiness.  “She saw my heart, Carol.  I was always sensitive, quiet, introspective, maybe a little older than my years.” She rolled her eyes.  “It’s a hard way to grow up in addition to the abandonment I was experiencing.  Too much going on inside me,” she mused with a shake of her head.

 

     “One year some benefactors of the orphanage bought gifts for us children.  They were random, and Sr. Alicia chose a camera for me. A Kodak Brownie, my very first!  It changed so much for me, gave me an outlet for my sensitivities, a distraction.  A focus, you know?” Seeing Carol nod, she shrugged her shoulders and continued, “Anyhow taking photos really became a balm for my heart and an escape when I needed to get away from the pain.  I think it still is, although now it’s so much more.”

 

     She picked up her tea, cold by now, and took a sip regardless.  Carol took up the pot and refilled Therese’s cup, which she gladly held out, smiling her thanks.  She was pleased to see that at least Therese’s face was no longer blotchy and tear-worn.  She seemed to be calming, perhaps finding her feet again, less swept away by old agonies. 

 

     “She really was my swami.  I’m so thankful for that, for her,” she stated with conviction.

 

     “I’m thankful you had her too, darling.  And extra thankful Sr. Alicia opened the door to your career and talent,” Carol added, feeling some of the tension easing its way out of her neck and shoulders.

 

     Therese nodded her agreement and then expelled a forceful breath.  “Whew! I think I need to stop talking now.  After a while it’s too much and words don’t work anymore.  Thank you, for listening, for being here….”  Out came another labored breath.  “Carol, would it be okay if…would you mind…I mean could I ask you to—“

 

     Carol interrupted her stuttering starts.  “Anything, sweetheart.  You can ask me anything.”

 

     “I really just want to feel your arms around me.”

 

     Feeling her heart turn over, Carol answered without words.  She scooted to the far end of the sofa, propped a couple throw pillows in the corner, swung her feet up, leaned back, and held out her open arms. 

 

 

 

CH.3

     If truth be told, Carol found herself feeling emotionally off-balance for days following Sunday morning’s talk with Therese.  Wednesday at lunch she wandered out back of the furniture store smoking a cigarette.  _Christ,_ she thought, _I’m so out of my comfort zone!_   Watching the lazy journey of her smoke rings she pondered the fact that loving Therese—and being in relationship with her—was taking her into uncharted waters.  Her own parents had been emotionally repressed and rarely invited a true feeling into their home.  And self-reflection was a foreign concept there.  Why bother to know oneself when there was plenty of money to distract oneself from said pursuit?

 

     Even her relationship with Abby didn’t invite the depth of intimacy she experienced with Therese.  They may have known each other their whole lives but it was as if their subconscious minds had drawn territorial boundaries in the sand--unspoken, implied, obeyed.  “Thou shalt not venture into these deep waters.”  And so they didn’t.

 

     Therese, on the other hand, had opened her deepest wound to Carol, and Carol found this breathtaking, moving, and terribly risky.  Her thoughts now were rather desperate.  _Oh, god, what if I_ _completely mess this up again?_   She lit another cigarette to quell the butterflies in her belly, exhaling and squinting against the glare of the early spring sunshine.  _What if I wound her?  What if I can’t give her what she needs?_   _Are there any books about how to be emotionally supportive?_  She had a mad urge to run to the library for information.  Or chain smoke, which she was well on her way to doing, she thought, huffing out the last of the cigarette smoke and getting reluctantly to her feet to head back inside.

 

     All afternoon Carol found herself distracted and less than pleased to expound on the merits of furniture with customers. If it wasn’t Therese, it was her daughter.  Rindy.  Rindy.  Rindy.  How she missed the child! It hurt to mention her name.  Memories flooded Carol’s awareness like raindrops beating down in a storm, and in her mind’s eye she wandered as if through a London fog, looking for the mother she used to be.  And while she was overjoyed to know Rindy would spend Mother’s Day with her Carol had a difficult time quelling her fears and suspicions.  Why had Harge granted the request for this time? Would Rindy want to see her?  Had Harge been poisoning their daughter against Carol?  What had the child overheard in his conversations with his mother, who made her hatred of Carol patently obvious? 

 

     These thoughts trailed Carol into the apartment after work like a few of the dwarfs Snow White had managed to overcome in therapy—Anxiety, Incompetence, and Self-Criticism. “Fuck!” she muttered under her breath, thoroughly frustrated with herself.  Kicking off her shoes with vigor she tossed back her shoulders with enough force to throw her neck out.  Good God, she needed to get a grip!

 

     Hearing her come in, Therese called, “Hi, Carol.  I was just going to pour myself a drink.  Can I get one for you?”

 

     “Please!” came the grateful reply, followed by a relieved groan as Carol watched the young woman approach.

 

    “Oh, wow,” Therese said in a hushed whisper, stopping in her tracks. She thought Carol looked like a summer storm. Her usually perfectly coifed hair was mussed and a white-gold curl unfurled itself over her right eye.  Her blouse had worked its way out of the waistband of her skirt and her shoes were strewn haphazardly at her stocking feet. Carol’s cheeks were painted rose by her own internal fire, the same one that left a delicate sheen of perspiration across her smooth forehead.  And those gray-blue eyes were dark with unnamed emotion and yet wild and untamed and bright with life.  Therese sighed rather loudly as she felt the stirrings of desire.  “Have I told you lately that you take my breath away?  Do you even know how beautiful you are?  I need to kiss you.  Can I kiss you, Carol?” she asked breathlessly, urgently.

 

     Carol stepped forward purposefully, taking the two tumblers of whiskey from Therese’s hands and placing them on the entrance table.  Then she grabbed one of her wrists and practically yanked her up against her, burying her face in the fragrant, enticing crease of the younger woman’s neck.  “Therese, Therese,” she gasped as a crashing wave of desire rose up between them.  Carol sought her lips almost desperately and in a far corner of her mind she knew this was her all: all her love, all her passion, all her kindness and fear and insecurity.  Therese returned kiss for kiss until Carol pulled back in a moment of abrupt clarity.  An inner voice sounded like a ship’s bell tolling: _Please let me be enough.  Please let me be enough._

 

     Therese, highly sensitized, looked into her lover’s eyes, dark with arousal and something else she couldn’t name.  “Carol?  Are you okay?” Concerned, she placed her hands on Carol’s cheeks. With pursed lips, she peered closely over every inch of the lovely face before her.  “Something’s wrong.  You’re _not_ okay.  Can we sit for a while?” she asked while tugging Carol’s hand and leading the way to the sofa.  Once seated she continued, “Did something happen with a client? Did you have a difficult day?  Did someone hurt you?”

 

     Carol swirled her whiskey.  “No, it was fine sweetheart.”

 

     “But….”

 

     “Why are you so sure there’s a ‘but?’”

 

     “I can feel it, Carol.  Something’s wrong. Is it anything you want to talk about?”

 

     “Are you trying to be my swami?” Carol asked in a weak attempt at deflection.  Receiving only a silent reply, she raised hesitant eyes, her hand flailing about like a bird lost in its flight path.  “I don’t know how to do this.”  Seeing Therese’s confused look she continued.  “I don’t know how to do _this_.  How to do _us_.  And I’m _afraid…I’m afraid_ _,_ _sweetheart._   What if I can’t be what you need, give you what you need?  What if I’m not enough?”

 

     Therese was silent, almost swept away by the fear and vulnerability in the stormy gaze.  It took her several moments before she could speak.  Then she leaned closer and picked up one of Carol’s hands, cold to the touch.  Holding it to her warm cheek she replied, “You never have to worry about that, Carol.  You don’t have to worry about giving me enough because you _are_ enough.”  She paused, taking and releasing a breath that somehow felt cleansing.  “You always were enough!  This has never been about your deficiencies!  My old pain had to do with you leaving me, not with you not being good enough for me.  You are more than I could have ever imagined!” she finished passionately.

 

     Carol took a sip of her drink, not breaking eye contact, and Therese decided this was a very good idea.  Gulping quickly, she drained her glass before placing it on the coffee table with a reverberating thump.  Then she looked for the whiskey bottle, her brown hair whipping about.  Observing this with eyebrows raised in amusement, Carol felt an unexpected peal of laughter bubble up and erupt forth.  It sang out, completely incongruous and yet as fresh and free as a church bell across a mountainside. And then both women were laughing.  Long, hard, inexplicable laughter that brought tears to their eyes.  “I agree, drinking seems like a good coping mechanism right about now,” Carol interjected before a final bout of laughter erupted and finally faded away.

 

     Composing herself, Therese looked Carol fully in the eye.  “Can I ask you something?  Are you also doubting whether you are enough for Rindy?”

 

     Taken aback, Carol sipped her drink before replying.  “Now you _are_ being a swami, aren’t you?” She nodded vaguely and shrugged her elegant shoulders.  “I’m afraid Harge has been poisoning her against me, he and his mother...afraid I’ll seem like a stranger to her.  That she won’t remember our closeness or even want it anymore.”

 

     Therese scooted closer on the sofa until their knees were touching.  She clasped Carol’s hands, stroking her fingers gently.  _Even her hands are so beautiful, so graceful,_ she thought before looking up.  “Carol, listen to me.  I know I’m young and maybe I haven’t a clue what I’m talking about.  But I can’t believe for even a second that Rindy wouldn’t still love you with the very same love she always has felt for you. Of course she wants to be close to you!  She spent the majority of the first four years of her life in your presence!  You’re her mother, Carol, and you’ve been a wonderful mother all along.  Harge and his mother are coming from a place of darkness and ignorance, and I’d like to tell them a thing or two about real love—the love _you_ show Rindy.  Real love doesn’t poison!

 

     “One of my favorite Sr. Alicia swami-isms is, ‘The Lord works through broken vessels.  We’re all broken, and we’re all he’s got!’  She used to remind us kids as we grew older that we didn’t have to be perfect.  That God didn’t expect that of us and neither should we.”  Therese paused to catch her breath and put a gentle finger under Carol’s chin, looking earnestly into her eyes.  “You don’t have to be perfect, Carol, not for Rindy and certainly not for me.  Especially not for me!” she finished emphatically.

 

     Carol squeezed the smaller hands intertwined with her own, then picked an imaginary speck of lint off the sofa.  Finally she raised eyes dark with emotion and brimming with tears.  “Thank you, sweetheart.  I needed to hear that...thank you.” 

 

     In a voice brimming with authority Therese then said, “As for Mother’s Day, we need to make it all about you!  All about you and Rindy, for you to spend exactly as you want to.  If you want to be alone with her I’ll leave, Carol.  I don’t want you to have to—

 

     “Darling, stop!  I can’t imagine the day without you in it!  Besides Rindy there’s no one more important to me than you, and I’ll not have you wandering around alone again on Mother’s Day,” she finished with her own command.

 

     “You really want me to be with you even if it may make me sad at times?”  Therese asked and she felt her body shake slightly, an involuntary quiver that held the memory of so many Mother’s Days alone, the deep, unspeakable pain of abandonment and self-doubt wound around her heart like a noose around the neck of a condemned man.  Carol noticed her shaking and pulled the smaller woman into her arms, placing the brown-haired head against her breast securely.  Tucking a few stray hairs behind the gentle curve of an ear, she hummed without knowing it, a melodious sound that rose from somewhere deep in her heart, the sweet echo of a mother’s love.  “Therese darling, I need you to hear me.  I want you with Rindy and I whether you’re laughing, crying, celebrating or sad.  Do you believe that?”

 

     Therese took a shuddering breath.  “I’ll try!  But sometimes I’m a mess.  What if I’m a mess?”

 

     Carol smiled gently.  “Well darling, then you’ll be _my_ mess, it’ll be _our_ mess!  Because I’m not leaving you in it alone.  Never again.  So--how about we make our plans?”

 

 

 

  1. 4



 

 

     Therese woke early on Mother’s Day, pleased to see the sun already streaming in and warming the bedroom.  Hopefully the day would continue in this vein with blue skies and spring sunshine to add to Carol’s delights.  She was also pleased that the first person she thought of was not her mother, but Sr. Alicia.  That dear woman, she thought.  To work in an orphanage with broods of cast off children could not have been easy.  She was truly the only “mother figure” Therese had ever known, and a solid, loving presence in her formative years. Her swami, yes, but perhaps her first muse also.  The woman whose quiet support and prescience gave Therese enough confidence to pick up a camera long before she understood its call. 

 

       With the luxury of time this morning Therese allowed her thoughts to wander.  It would be hard to grow up in a Catholic children’s home without being taught how to pray, and taught well and long.  This became challenging for Therese the older she grew.  The Catholic image of God seemed to be based on family images that left her cold.  God “the Father”—well, Therese had never known hers.  Mary, “Our Mother”—let’s not even go there.  Jesus, “our brother”—and what, exactly was a brother?  And yet Therese thought now of her friend Billy, two years her junior and somehow a kindred soul,  probably the closest thing she had to a brother.  With him she discovered nature in the gardens and fields of the Home, but most especially in the woods beyond.

 

     A snippet of a favorite poem came to her--“Where ill thoughts die and good are born, Out in the fields with God.”  An Elizabeth Barrett Browning poem that practically leapt into her being as a teen.  For reasons still mysterious to her, it was “out in the fields” with Billy; out in the fields, orchards, gardens, and woods that Therese was most at peace and aware of God, or a Great Being of some sort.  The two of them would frolic for hours losing track of time as only children can do.  Laying in the grass and making cloud pictures.  Blowing the tops off dandelions.  Picking bunches of daffodils and tulips for Sr. Alicia.  And most especially wandering through the woods, content to hear the crunch of leaves underfoot, to leap from stone to stone across the creek, to hear the rush of the wind through the massive old trees gracious enough to offer their limbs for climbing.

 

     At this very moment Therese almost felt her soul seized with gratitude—for Sr. Alicia, for Billy, most especially for Carol.  Sr. Alicia used to always say “God is love,” and “thank you is a prayer in itself,” and laying in this beautiful bedroom next to the woman she loved, on a Mother’s Day she would not be alone Therese could not help but pray, Thank you, thank you, thank you.  Whomever You Are, thank you.

 

    

 

     Turning toward Carol, she was startled to see her wide awake and watching her.  Therese smiled and immediately traversed the space between them, putting an arm around her slender waist and kissing her chin.  “Good morning and Happy Mother’s Day!  How are you? Did you sleep well?” she asked softly, stroking Carol’s warm back and inhaling her sleep-warmed scent.

 

     “Hmm…I slept well.  I’m nervous.  And I just have to lay here quietly with you in my arms for a bit before I can engage my brain any further.”  This sounded wonderful to the younger woman who quite contentedly nuzzled her lover’s chest and tightened her arms.  Carol mindlessly stroked the hair from Therese’s face, kissing her forehead repeatedly, gently.  There was deep comfort to be found here for Carol, such strength and safety and peace.  How she could find this in the arms of a waif-like girl twelve years her junior mystified her again and again. But it made her heart sing.

 

     After a while Carol rose up on an elbow and looked down at Therese, still stroking her hair.  “How are you, darling?” she asked almost tentatively.  She began placing little kisses everywhere on Therese’s face--eyes, cheeks, chin, lips.  She heard a catch in her voice as she spoke.  “I’m okay and getting better by the minute.”  Carol kissed her several more times before pulling away, a move which elicited a moan of protest from her young lover.  “Are you really okay?  How did you sleep?”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

     Therese pulled back so she could make eye contact.  “I think I’m okay.  A little raw and shaky, I guess. I thought of Sr. Alicia first thing though, and it helped.”     Carol smiled, surprised and pleased.  “Did you remember a piece of swami wisdom?”  Nodding, Therese replied, “I did!  I remembered to say a prayer of thanks.  She always reminded us that ‘Thank you’ was a powerful prayer.”

 

     “I had no idea you were a praying woman, darling.”

 

     “Carol, it’s hard to grow up in a Catholic orphanage and not become aware of prayer.”  She rolled her eyes.  “We prayed constantly!  When we woke up, at lunch, before each meal, before bed...God, by the time I was 11 or 12 I hated it!  I would fake it!”  Carol burst out laughing.  “You really are full of surprises!  For some reason I’ve never thought of you praying in the first place and now I’m learning you faked praying!”  She laughed again, a delighted, musical, joyful sound.  “Oh, I was good at it,” Therese admitted, with an amused gleam in her eyes.  “I knew perfectly well how to move my lips and say a ‘Hail Mary’ while trying to figure out if Sr. Alicia had any hair under her habit.” And a mischievous smile filled her face from shore to dimpled shore.

 

     “Therese, Therese,” Carol said, startled by her beauty, drawing near to her again, embracing her,  burying her face in the younger woman’s soft, fragrant hair.  She tightened her arms as powerful feelings swept through her.  “I’m always finding more about you to love,” she whispered, helpless to stop the waves of desire that caused her now to move on top of her, separating the smooth young legs with a knee and fitting their bodies together.  Looking into Therese’s eyes, dark with desire, Carol felt breathless and out of control, carried away by a surge of passion so intense it frightened her. She could not stop the kisses she rained down upon her young lover’s neck, ears, shoulders, along her collarbone, up to her temples and forehead and then to her lips where she kissed her deeply and fiercely, searching out her tongue and beginning the sensuous and ageless dance.  Therese responded with a moan and rasped, “Carol, I need you.  Please love me.” 

 

     “Yes, darling, yes….” Carol breathed out a heated sigh, her movements purposeful and determined now.  All thought fled as her body took over, guided by a love whose intensity filled her with an ache she had never known nor could she understand.  As she kissed her way down Therese’s body she wanted to honor, to pay homage, to reverence her body, mind, heart, and soul.  The young, smooth, velvety skin fed her desire as she passionately and mindlessly brought her lips to her breasts, nipples, abdomen, thighs, and the center of her lover’s longing.  “Carol,” Therese gasped, “Oh, Carol…”  Filled with a yearning to look into her eyes, Carol moved up to Therese’s face.  The raw, naked need and trust she saw there caused her own eyes to fill with tears.

 

     “Therese! Darling, I love you!” she choked out, barely able to breathe. With tears squeezing out the corner of her eyes Therese cried, “Yes! I love you!”  The two women kissed deeply as they began to rotate their pelvises, seeking friction and the pleasure of self and each other.  As if by silent accord their hands, their fingers found their way between each other’s thighs to fill one another deeply.  And then there was no need for words, no words were possible and no words would suffice.  The bedroom filled with gasps and moans and sobs of pleasure and joy as they danced the timeless dance of coupling, of lovers, of love, tumbling over the precipice together with profound, emptying cries.

 

     In the breathless afterward, neither Carol nor Therese spoke.  Steaming, sated, silenced, they held each other tenderly and were soon sound asleep.

 

 

  1. 5



                                

 

 

     “Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Therese muttered, craning her neck to peer at the bedside clock.  “Shit!”

 

     Awakened by the string of curses, Carol cocked an eye open and asked drowsily, “And what would Sr. Alicia say to hear such language?”

 

     “Well if she knew how late it was she’d probably say, ‘Shit!’”  Therese replied with certainty, distracted and already in motion.

 

     “What time is it?”

 

     “It’s 9:45!”

 

     “Shit!” Carol exclaimed shooting straight up and clamoring out of bed.  She looked at Therese with eyes both excited and apprehensive.  “Rindy’s going to be here soon.”

 

     “Yes!”  Seeing the apprehension, Therese came around the bed to stand in front of Carol, putting her hands on her shoulders and massaging gently. “You okay?”

 

     Carol was surprised to feel tears well up.  “I will be.  I just…I want her to still love me, as if nothing has changed.”  She sighed.  “But so much has changed, hasn’t it?”

 

     Therese squeezed the slender shoulders again and then enveloped Carol in a hug, rubbing her back consolingly.  She thought hard before she spoke.  “Yes, Carol, a lot has changed.”  Pulling back she fixed her gaze directly on Carol, who felt the impact like twin lasers through the crenellated fabric of her soul.  “But your love hasn’t. No matter what Harge has done or might have said, no matter what his idiot mother might be thinking or god forbid, saying—they don’t have the power to destroy your love for your daughter.”  As she spoke Therese was aware of a flash of old pain ghosting through her but she pressed on.  She took a deep breath. “I’m the last person that should be talking about mother-daughter relationships but I really think the most important thing is to focus on the love you feel.  Rindy will feel it!” she finished earnestly, her thumbs pressing almost painfully into Carol’s shoulders.

 

     After a moment Carol found herself smiling gently.  “You know more than you think, darling.  And you—“

 

  Therese cut her off.  “I’m going to be okay.  I get to be with you and Rindy today.”  She smiled genuinely, her green eyes shining like a carpet of dewy leaves on a forest floor.  “Now go get ready. She’ll be here before we know it. And I’ve got some things to see to,” she finished hurriedly, pulling away and almost bolting out of the room.

 

     In the kitchen Therese flew into action.  She pulled out the English cucumber, watercress, and cream cheese along with the bread for the tea sandwiches and began prepping her ingredients.  She mixed all the ingredients for the blueberry scones and popped them in the oven.  Put out the fresh butter to soften.  Placed the clotted cream into a creamer and the lemon curd into a small bowl. Made a small fruit tray with strawberries, blueberries, and sliced pineapple from the farmer’s market. Set the table with the finest linens and china they owned. Brewed two pots of delectable-smelling morning beverages—one of coffee and one of tea.  And finally, brought out the gorgeous blown glass vase, the one in rich hues of blue, purple, pink, and silver, arranged the white lilies inside artfully, and placed the whole affair in the middle of the dining room table.

 

     She had just enough time to grab the scones from the oven and set them to cool before rushing to the bedroom to get dressed.  There she was stopped in her tracks at the sight of Carol finishing her grooming at her vanity mirror, resplendent in her slim-fitting white dress with the navy piping, her makeup and hair done to perfection, her nails and lips the matching shade of rich coral that drove Therese to distraction.  She gazed with her mouth open in the shape of a perfect oval, stunned again by the almost sublime beauty of the woman she loved.  “Carol,” she sighed.   “You are so beautiful.  Just so beautiful.”

 

     Smiling demurely Carol stood and took the few steps toward Therese, then slid a hand behind her  neck and brought their lips together, kissing the smaller woman soundly.  “Thank you, sweetheart.  I needed to hear that. Now go get dressed!  I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.” 

 

     In the kitchen Carol poured herself a cup of coffee and lit a cigarette.  Leaning against the counter with her eyes closed she was aware of adrenalin rushing through her veins.  How was it possible to feel so many things at the same time?  Love, joy, fear, apprehension all swirling like threads of a tapestry.  She felt like one of the fraying fibers and longed to know the weaver.

 

 

     The doorbell rang and Carol’s heart leapt.  Swallowing the last of her coffee she smoothed her dress over her hips and squared her shoulders.  She barely had the door open before Rindy came barreling through, launching herself at Carol with force enough that she took a step backward.  “Mommy!” the little girl fervently exclaimed.  Overcome with emotion, she dropped to her knees to clutch her child.  “Oh my darling, darling girl!” Carol held Rindy so tightly she squealed, “Mom-my!”  Swallowing a sob with laughter, Carol breathed in the sweet young child scent.  “My baby, my baby…”

 

     “But mommy, I’m not a baby….”  Carol heard her daughter’s words but glancing up caught Harge watching them with an inscrutable gleam in his eye.  Giving Rindy a last squeeze she stood to her full height, glad to be wearing heels.  Later she would tell Therese it was like watching a scene from a silent movie, or that Harge seemed to be standing at the far end of an endless tunnel.  She realized she had nothing to say beyond, “Rindy, give daddy a hug goodbye.  He’ll be back to get you around suppertime.”  The little girl grabbed her father’s hand and looked up at him.  “Daddy?”  Roused from his own inner recesses the dark-haired man broke eye contact with Carol and bent to hug their daughter.  “Bye-bye sweetheart.  Have fun with mommy today.”  And he quietly turned on his heel.

 

     “Oh mommy, I’m so happy to see you!” Rindy practically shouted as the apartment door closed.

 

     “Me, too, sweet pea!  Me, too!”

 

     Overhearing this excited exchange through the bedroom door, Therese felt her eyes water, an intense amalgam of her own sorrow and Carol’s joy, and she was glad for these few moments alone.  She needed the time to let her sadness flow through and out if she could, for she was wholly intent on doing everything possible to stay with Carol and Rindy in this very present time of joy.

 

     Once composed and after short while had passed to give Carol her privacy with Rindy, Therese emerged quietly from the bedroom and came into the living room where they sat huddled, Rindy in her mother’s lap, the two blond heads close together.  Hearing Therese approach, Carol raised shining eyes to look at her, and in their depths Therese saw joy unbound, spilling over and into the space between them like a carpet of spring daffodils billowing in the wind.

 

     “Rindy, this is mommy’s special friend I told you about, Therese.  Can you say hi?”

 

     The little girl turned her face from Carol’s neck where she’d had it buried and shyly made eye contact.  “Hello, Therese,” she said in a small, tender voice. Therese marveled at how like Carol she looked—the golden blond hair in gentle curls around her elfin face, the blue-grey eyes, the smooth, delicately pale complexion splashed now with pink high on her cheeks.  The beautiful child of a beautiful mother.

 

     “Hi Rindy, I’m so happy to meet your mommy’s very favorite person,” Therese said, smiling gently and extending her hand formally.  Rindy reached out her little hand though she kept her head under Carol’s chin.  “And on this very special day for you and your mom, too.”  Cupping a hand to her mouth, the child whispered loudly in the direction of her mother’s ear, “What’s this day again, mommy?” 

 

     “It’s called Mother’s Day, sweet pea, and it’s so special because it’s the day I get to stop and celebrate how wonderful it is to be your mommy,” Carol answered warmly, tightening her arms and kissing the top of Rindy’s head.  “And today will be extra special because Therese will be here, too, and she’s been wanting to meet you for a long time now.”

 

     Rindy eyed her solemnly.  “Did you really want to meet me, Therese?”

 

     “Oh my, yes!  Your mommy talks about you all the time, and I see lots of pictures of you but I’ve been so excited to meet her very special girl! I feel so lucky today!” 

 

     Losing her shyness, Rindy sat up straight in Carol’s lap.  “What do you like to play?” she asked seriously, and Therese could see Carol swallow a laugh before catching her eye merrily.  She sat down on her knees in front of her young friend.  “Oh. Hmm, I haven’t thought about that in a long time!  Well, I like to color, and play jacks, and play house.  And I _really_ like to play outside, like in a park with a river where I can catch turtles and frogs.  Oh, and take pictures, too, with my camera,” Therese finished, rather proud of herself for this recitation of all her favorite childhood activities.

 

     “You like to go in _rivers_ and catch _turtles_ and _frogs_?”  The little girl sounded flabbergasted, her blue eyes big and round, her voice rising with excitement.  She turned toward Carol.  “Mommy, do you go catch turtles and frogs with Therese?  Can I go?” 

 

     Carol looked only slightly less flabbergasted than her daughter, and Therese found herself amused.    “Well, sweet pea, I can’t say I’ve ever been in a river trying to catch turtles and frogs, and—

 

     “But mommy,” Rindy interrupted, “don’t you _play_ with Therese?”  She looked closely from her mother to Therese, oblivious to the rosy hue staining the cheeks of both women.  “Rindy darling, try to remember not to interrupt, okay?  And yes, Therese and I do play sometimes but it’s…” Her voice trailed off like the tail on a comet.

 

     “What your mommy means is that yes, we play, but mostly house and taking pictures,” Therese picked up, clearing her throat.  “And maybe some time we can all go to the river and catch turtles and frogs, but we can’t today.”  She gladly changed the subject.   “Rindy, have you ever been to a real tea party?”

 

     “No, only with my dolls.  And not with tea but just water,” Rindy answered, clearly less than excited with the choice of activity.

 

     “Well, since this is you and your mom’s special day we will have the most special tea party ever, with real tea just like the Queen of England drinks.  Only today your mommy gets to be the queen,” Therese finished with a flourish.  Above her daughter’s head Carol smiled fondly at Therese, her lovely face illuminated by a glow that seemed to emanate from the region just above her heart.

 

     Rindy smiled, beginning to warm to the idea.  “Really?  Mommy gets to be the queen?  Who do I get to be?” the little girl questioned.

 

     Therese answered happily, “Why, the princess, of course!  Can you help me get the crowns ready, Rindy?”  With eyes as big as saucers Rindy said, “I get to have a crown?”  Therese was thoroughly enjoying the rising excitement in the youngster’s voice.  “Yes, yes, you do.  You are a princess for a day!”

 

     Before she’d even finished speaking Rindy was squirting out of Carol’s arms and grabbing Therese’s hand trying to lift her from her knees.  “C’mon, Therese, c’mon!”  She took a few hurried steps and then stopped and spun toward Carol.  “Where are we going?” she asked with arms raised and Carol laughed.  “I don’t know, sweet pea.”  She turned toward Therese who looked, she thought, like a lively spring bouquet with her pink dress a perfect complement for those shining emerald eyes. “Where are we going?”

 

     “ _You_ aren’t going anywhere!  The queen gets to sit, but Rindy and I will be right back.  Come with me Rindy.”  And off they went to the bedroom, the little girl’s blond curls bobbing as she skipped excitedly after Therese. 

 

     Carol sat contentedly, listening to closet doors being slid open and shut and her daughter’s slightly high-pitched voice, muted through the bedroom wall but discernible nonetheless.  She watched the dance of sun and shadow on the plush cream-colored rug, almost mystified at the turn of events that found her here, in this apartment on this day, with a woman she loved and a daughter she loved above all else chattering away like old friends in the other room.  Was it only a year ago she was married to Harge, a cold, lifeless, miserable marriage to a man she barely tolerated being in the same room with?  How did she spend her last Mother’s Day?  Was there any joy beyond the moments with Rindy?  Was Harge even glad to celebrate her motherhood?  And where in the world did Therese even come from?  Sitting here now Carol was almost convinced her girlfriend came into her life in a handful of stardust thrown down from the heavens.  Never a praying woman she was amazed to hear herself silently say, Thank you, thank you, thank you.

 

     Carol jumped when her musings were interrupted by Rindy’s shouted: “Mommy!  Mommy!  It’s time!”  The little girl ran into the living room, brimming with anticipation and continued her eager instructions, “Close your eyes, mommy!  You can’t see this part!”  Carol dutifully obeyed, and heard her daughter whisper loudly, “Okay Therese!  She’s ready!”  Quiet footsteps, the rustle of paper, the sofa cushion shifting as a little body plopped down next to her.  “Okay! You can open your eyes now,” she piped in a voice overflowing with youthful enthusiasm.

 

     And there in front of her stood Therese holding a large box with an absolutely gorgeous homemade “crown” nestled on tissue paper within—pink sweetheart rosebuds, white daisies, vivid green myrtle,  and pink and white beadwork placed artfully and skillfully around fresh green vines. It was so beautiful Carol caught her breath.  Certainly any bride would be proud to wear this on her wedding day; Carol could only guess at how long it would have taken Therese to make it.  Because it was obvious she had, and the blue-grey eyes that looked up at the younger woman shimmered with tears and love.  Therese returned a gentle gaze, and then said, “Okay Rindy, do you remember your part?”

 

     Standing next to Carol on the couch Rindy took the crown from the pillow and exclaimed, “Now presenting Queen Mommy!”  And she made to put the crown on Carol’s head with a little help from the new queen. Then she plopped down next to her mother while Therese produced another beautiful crown, this one with white daisies and pink beadwork.

 

     “And now I crown you Princess Rindy,” she said with seriousness in her soft voice, placing the crown on the new princess’s head.  “Queen Mommy and Princess Rindy, please stay put because I have to go get my camera for the first ever royal picture.”  Returning, Therese took several shots of a beaming but tearful Carol and her little princess whose bright smile could rival the sun.  After, she directed, “Rindy, you can go get your present now honey.”  And off Rindy went to the bedroom, returning in no time with a folded piece of pink construction paper.  “Here, mommy,” she said, climbing into Carol’s lap.

 

     Carol looked at her present, a drawing of what was clearly herself wearing a crown, a big smile, and nothing else, drawn in crayon by Rindy and under which Therese had written, Mommy the Queen.  Inside was another drawing, this one a self-portrait of Rindy labeled “Mommy’s Princess Rindy.”  “Oh, sweetheart, this is the most wonderful, special present I’ve ever, ever received.  Thank you so much!  It’s beautiful.”  She kissed her daughter’s cheek and squeezed her tightly, until Rindy squealed, “Okay mommy, but please watch my crown!”

 

      Laughing merrily, Carol and Therese shared a look rich with a simple and yet complete joy.  In that moment Therese thought, perhaps this is what Mother’s Day is supposed to feel like.  Even if her own mother was long gone, having evaporated from her life ages ago, maybe this day was just a taste of the kind of joy one was supposed to experience with a mother in your life.  A mother who loved, cherished, and delighted in you, and whom you loved in return.  As if echoing through a precious passage in her memory she heard Sr. Alicia’s voice, and Therese silently whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

 

       She was brought out of her reverie by the feel of Carol’s arms coming around her and holding her close.  With her lips close to Therese’s ear she murmured, “I love you, darling.  I love you so much.”

 

 

  1. 6



 

 

     When Harge came to pick up Rindy she needed to be roused from a nap, having fallen asleep across both Carol’s and Therese’s laps after a full day--a lovely tea party, a horse and carriage ride in Central Park, large ice cream cones and playing house with Therese.  Now, Therese watched Carol struggle valiantly as she passed her sleeping daughter to her ex-husband, not succeeding in holding the tears at bay.  Kissing the child on her smooth forehead, Carol whispered, “Bye bye darling. Mommy loves you.”

 

     Roused from her sleep Rindy found Carol’s neck with her arms, grabbing hold and squeezing tightly.  She drowsily pressed an errant kiss to Carol’s ear and mumbled, “Bye mommy.  I miss you. I hope I come back soon to play with you and Therese.”  It was only her genteel upbringing and force of habit that allowed Carol to make eye contact with Harge and say sincerely, “Thanks for bringing her.”  She saw again that inscrutable gleam in his eyes, a certain darkening with emotion, until he pulled Rindy close to his chest and turned to go.

 

     Seeing the look on Carol’s face as she closed the door, Therese came to her, wordlessly drawing her into a warm embrace.  She felt her body give a small shudder and said, “Come on, Carol, let’s just sit for a bit.  I’ll pour us a drink.”  They sat together on the sofa, stocking feet on the coffee table and whiskey in their hands.  For the longest time they were silent, sipping their drinks.  Carol was surprised, buffeted by the quietude as if by warm air currents. No veiled hostilities, no pregnant pauses, no unspoken threats.  She breathed deeply, rubbed her neck occasionally, and allowed the myriad thoughts to come and go as they pleased.  Therese swirled her whiskey, staring at the amber liquid, its fluid movement inexplicably soothing.  She thought of a top she used to play with at the children’s home, depressing the handle again and again, enjoying the wild ride of colors.  Hypnotized by its flow, its slow-motion stop unexpectedly entranced her, often stilling both herself and hyperactive Billy, too.  Sr. Alicia loved it. 

 

     After some time Therese turned her gaze upon Carol who seemed lost in thought but not distressed.  Her movements caused  the other woman to look at her and Therese asked, “What do you need, love?  What can I do?”  Carol shook her head back and forth and responded, “I have no idea.  It’s such a huge hole, when she’s not here…I can’t even describe it.  I’m afraid, if I get too close—what if I fall in and can’t get out?”  She took a heaving breath and rubbed her neck again, pulling her head to one side.  Exhaling forcefully she continued, “And sometimes I feel like I could chew glass!  It’s so infuriating to have to ask permission to see my own daughter, so fucking humiliating!” she finished vehemently.                                                                                                            

 

      The younger woman nodded her agreement and then moved so their bodies touched lightly, feeling uncertain in her words and actions.  “I can’t even imagine what that feels like, Carol.  And words really, really seem insignificant. Like they can’t capture the injustice and pain and heartbreak you’re living with. And you do it with such dignity!  I think you’re amazing.  Just this incredible person!  Much too good for Harge.  I just…I just wish I could do something to make it all better!”  She took a breath and turned so she completely faced the blue-eyed woman, holding the piercing look steadily. “I won’t let you stand alone next to the hole, Carol, not if you don’t want to be alone.  You can tell me if you’re in danger of getting sucked in.  I’ll stay with you.  We can figure out what you need together, okay?”  Seeing Carol’s nod and slight smile she continued in a much sharper voice, “As for Harge--God, if it wasn’t illegal I’d jump on his back and beat the living crap out of him!  Harge, his mother and his lawyer!”  Given an almost immediate, comical image of tiny Therese riding on Harge’s back and pummeling him, Carol let go a short laugh which seemed to break the tension that had momentarily descended.

 

      “There is something rather attractive about the thought of physically harming him, isn’t there?” Carol agreed in measured tones. Taking a final sip of her drink, she shrugged her shoulders as if needing to put away all thoughts of Harge.  “And you, darling--can I ask how you’re feeling?”  Her voice was tentative and hesitant as she changed the focus of discussion.

 

     “Oh, well…grateful. Happy.  Sad.”  Another long pause.  “I loved being with you and Rindy!  She’s so amazing!  It was wonderful having the Queen’s Tea—I really wanted to engage her and it was so fun to get caught up in her enthusiasm,” she said with a glowing smile of memory on her face.  “And to think so much of Sr. Alicia.  I don’t know why I never saw it before but she really was my first mother…a mother figure.  I prayed a lot of ‘thank yous’ today.”

 

      Then Therese’s brow knitted and Carol could see the ghost of sadness scurry across her lovely features.  “And I suppose there’s still regret, or grief. I don’t know.  My mother…I’ll probably always think of her.  And seeing you with Rindy, your joy and love, the fact she was taken from you… It makes it even harder to understand, Carol.  My mother’s choices.”  She paused and took a very deep breath and Carol could almost feel her struggle for air.  “The old questions came back at one point today.  _Why didn’t she want me?  Why didn’t she love_ _me?  What was it about me?”_

 

     Carol almost leapt across the remaining space between them, grabbing the younger woman’s hands so tightly it hurt. “It was _nothing_ about you, sweetheart,” she said so fiercely her eyes watered.  “Nothing at all about you!  This is all on your mother!  She was the adult.  You were just an innocent child caught in her choices, bizarre choices, I think!” She brought a hand to Therese’s cheek, cupping it gently.  “You are so beautiful, so lovable.  I could spend a lifetime loving you and never run out of things to love.  _Please, please_ tell me you believe this!” she finished passionately.

 

     “I don’t think I’m there yet, Carol. But I’ll keep trying.”  Therese breathed through a tightening and then expansion around her heart. Then she caught Carol’s eye and shook her head, a wry grin on her face.  “God, are we a mess or what?  Do you think other couples are like this?  What if we both fall down the hole at the same time?”

 

     Carol laughed, delighted that her lover’s ever-present sense of humor decided to show itself.  “Sweetheart, if we both fall down the hole we can always scream for Abby!  She will at least toss down a few bottles of wine!”

 

     They laughed together then, deep and genuine and with a cleansing power that somehow released them into the present moment.  And then, stilled into the quiet early evening they reached for each other, holding tenderly and with great care.  There they stayed for a good while, both experiencing a wordless, enveloping gratitude, a deep sense of peace settling around them like twilight over the moor, the solace of physical comfort softening the sharp edges of pain.  

 

     Finally, Carol pulled away.  “Darling, would it surprise you if I told you I’m absolutely exhausted?” she asked, a certain weariness hovering just underneath the surface.  Therese chuckled.  “Oh my God so am I! I am _so_ tired.”

 

     Carol stood and extended her hand to the younger woman, pulling her to her feet.  “How about a bath with the queen?” she asked with an eyebrow raised impishly.

 

     Therese smiled with delight. “How about a bath with the queen’s girlfriend?” she responded just as playfully, pulling on the hand that held hers, propelling them both toward the bedroom. 

 

     Not long after they lay under the blankets, quietly content.  Glancing out the window, Therese said in an amused voice, “Carol, do you realize we’re in bed before the sun has even set?” Then she yawned.  “I think this is exactly where we belong,” Carol answered tiredly, scooting over and maneuvering Therese about like a piece of showroom furniture so she could spoon her.  “Mmm.  This feels so lovely.  Sweetheart, thank you so much for today.  You made me feel like a special mom,” the older woman murmured with her chin on Therese’s shoulder, her arm securely about her waist. And then she, too, yawned.

 

     Therese squeezed Carol’s arm and whispered, “You _are_ a special mother!  You’re the best mother!”

 

     “I love being reminded of that.  And darling, I’m too tired to talk now but maybe at some point we can discuss this bit about catching frogs and turtles…” Therese grinned through her sleepy haze at the slight alarm in her lover’s voice.  “You’re going to love it, Carol.  It’s so much fun mucking about in rivers,” she mumbled almost dreamily.    She could practically feel Carol’s eyes fly open.  “Mucking about in rivers!  Oh for Christ’s sake, Therese!  It sounds so… _squishy._   Mucking about in rivers…”  She yawned again.

 

     “Carol, it’ll be okay, I promise,” and Therese was fading now.  “Oh, okay,” her lover whispered back, fading too.  “Anything.  Anything for you and Rindy.”  And soon thereafter they were both sound asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I appreciate your time very much!


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